


Possessions

by Laurelwreath



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Jealousy, Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 04:03:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurelwreath/pseuds/Laurelwreath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They have claimed Karhold, but their life together is only beginning and the past casts certain shadows...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possessions

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a part of my longer work, but I edited it out and decided to post it now after some re-working.

Sigorn tried hard to conceal his awe when she took him for a tour of his new home, making sure that she had a story to go with every room. This is the Great Hall, this the garden where we played as children, this the tower where I stood and watched my father’s host ride away towards the south… _This is my home, by my grace you stand where you are now, you and not Ser Patrek or Ser Axell._

But when she looked down from the battlements to the sea of bronze helms beneath, she felt for a moment like a stranger in her own house. The enormity of what he had achieved seemed to be dawning to Sigorn, and the pride and triumph he felt might have been tinged with a hint of terror. For him, now, to step out of the age of the First Men and into the head of a great house, embroiled in the battle for the North. Alys was momentarily no less terrified. _Father, forgive me for what I have done._ She put her hand on her husband’s arm, whether to steady herself or him she couldn’t say.

She thought the wildling was in awe of her when they first met. He looked at her like he’d scarce seen a kneeler woman before; later she heard that no Thenn had set foot on this side of the Wall for ages. She had fully intended to keep her hold over him, but she had perhaps underestimated how difficult it is to appear awe-inspiring to someone who sees you the first thing every morning, eyes sticky with sleep and hair like a bird’s nest. And every time he slid his hand between her thighs to find her ready and willing, she feared she lost a little bit of her power.

Tonight he is still drunk on his victory, and he takes her more forcefully than usual, coming behind her when she is undressing for a bath. He pulls her skirt up around her waist, and she can feel him already fully hard. His hand reaches for her breast as he nudges her legs apart with his knee. She wouldn’t mind a bit more gentleness, but she braces herself against a wall and allows him to enter her. _He claims me like he has claimed my castle_. Sigorn isn’t a cruel or dishonorable man, but she is more and more often reminded of what Lord Snow told her about the Thenns. _His father ruled with an iron fist, Jon said, his son is cut from the same skin._ Maybe Jon could see that her valuation of him was too hasty, that she was too sure of herself. 

Still, she is glad to be home, freshly bathed and luxuriantly stretching herself out on the bed after so many nights on the hard ground. “I never believed I’d see Karhold again.”

He gives her a cool stare, leaning on his elbow to see her face. “What you think then, coming to Castle Black? That Lord Snow, he’d marry you?”

 Alys can’t help coloring a little, though she tries to laugh it off. “That Stannis would take off my uncles’ heads, and I’d see what would happen then.”

“You not ride to Stannis.”

“Unlike Stannis, Castle Black stays in one place, making it considerably easier to locate in this snowstorm. If you know where his troops are, by all means go and join them, I’m sure he’d appreciate knowing where the hell he is himself.” A flicker of a smirk crosses his face, but his eyes are still dark.

“He seemed like a friend of you, Lord Snow. You knew him well?”

“We met once, when we were children, but our families were related.  Like almost every family in the Seven Kingdoms. Why do you care?” She returns his stare with a cool one of her own.

His words fail him, but Alys understands his look. “Oh for gods’ sakes. He all but thrust me in your arms. It’s not much use longing after him.” She isn’t one to dwell on the what-ifs and might-have-beens of life. Jon was amused by her, perhaps even charmed by her when tried so hard to be charming, because flirt and flattery were the only weapons that she possessed. But he would never choose her over his duty, so she had to make her own choice to serve her interests.

It is the same ability to make difficult choices and stick to them that she respects in her husband, though this ability didn’t extend to submitting to the Watch’s authority. _How would I have felt to be a lackey to the Lannisters after they killed Torr and Edd?_ And in the end, his reluctance seems to have served him well.

The marriage hasn’t so far given her much cause for complaint. This physical aspect of their union has been more pleasing than she imagined, though she would never have agreed to wed him if she’d found him entirely repulsive. Perhaps they’re both silently determined to make it pleasing, to make the best of their choice, but it hasn’t been overly difficult for her. And neither for Sigorn, if his ardor is any sort of evidence.  There’s a certain animal comfort to be had from the feeling of someone’s body right next to your own, even if the man is a virtual stranger, and all the better when the body is young and lean and strong. Sometimes, he even holds her gently close, like he wants to feel at least a facsimile of tenderness between them, and she responds by pressing her cheek against his chest, snuggling closer and wrapping her arms around him. Maybe he suspects she thinks of Jon in those moments; she doesn’t, nor of Daryn, or anyone. She hasn’t known what it is like to hold near someone that she loves, and maybe she never will, but right then she is glad to have someone to hold. In other times, her whole body aches for him to embrace her again, but she daren’t reach out to him. She knows he has loved a woman before, he let the truth slip once, and she doesn’t want to beg him for this feigned affection when he mourns the loss of something that was more real.

Now this knowledge needles her when she is faced with his sudden possessiveness. “What about you then _,_ ”she rounds on him, sitting upright. “I came to you a maiden, yet it was plain I wasn’t your first. Who taught you how to lie with a woman?” _Did you have sweet words for her, or did she spread her legs because she had to, because you were to be the Magnar?_ She bites her tongue and wonders why she should suddenly find herself caring so much. If she’d married Daryn, there would have been things in his past too, dark corners she should have taken care not to illuminate.

“Doesn’t matter anymore,” he returns angrily. _So it was the sweetheart you mentioned, the girl who died._ Somehow this doesn’t help at all. She feels jealousy rising like bile and is startled when she recognizes the emotion. _Why should he act like my memories and my dreams are his to dictate, if he carries the image of someone else before his own eyes?_  She turns away from him, but Sigorn takes hold of her shoulder and pulls her down.

“I said doesn’t matter” he says, looking into her eyes, his countenance stern and unsmiling. “Why wouldn’t it, when my thoughts matter so much to you” she answers, trying for playfulness but hearing anger and resentment come through in her voice.

“Because… this.” He slides his hand along the curve of her back and pulls her hips against his.

“Again?” she arches an eyebrow, smiling as she feels him hard once more. He grins and tries to pull her on top of him. She acquiesces and slides her leg over him. “Could you take it a little slower this time?” He nods, grinning again, and she begins to grind her hips against him, not letting him come inside her yet. The anger hasn’t quite subsided, and she would wish to make him pay for his suspicions, but self-consciousness mars her enjoyment. It strikes her as faintly absurd to pretend that she doesn’t want him inside her when she is definitely willing, but more than that, it feels sad and lonely to play this little game of control. She raises herself so that he can guide himself in and feels that familiar rush of sensation. Seeing his face on that moment is more satisfying than denying him that pleasure. They chance to look each other in the eye, momentarily still, and on an impulse, she touches his cheek. She doesn’t expect it when he lays his own hand on hers and gently takes hold of her hand. He presses a kiss on her palm, and she has to lower her eyes, assailed with an emotion she can’t quite comprehend.


End file.
